Secret Garden
by Meranii
Summary: AU. Vincent Valentine is a sucessful businessman who's life is falling around him. Will his new young salesgirl rebuild it, or tear it back down? Rated M for language and some sexuality.
1. The Dove

A/N: I just wrote this in a spur of the moment idea I got since I was home alone. Originally this was going to be an original fiction that I came up with years ago, and it was going to be about a married woman who is beaten by her husband, then she meets a troubled teenage boy who shows her what it means to be cared for, but since I made it fanfiction, I switched it around a little. I hope everyone enjoys it.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

SECRET GARDEN

PART ONE

_She'll let you in her house  
If you come knockin' late at night  
She'll let you in her mind  
If the words you say are right  
If you pay the price  
She'll let you deep inside  
But there's a secret garden she hides_

CHAPTER ONE: THE DOVE

Vincent Valentine propped his head against the phone, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, alright, Strife. It's a deal. I'll let you stay if you work for me." His voice was tired, he'd been at work since 9:30 that morning. Remembering this, he glanced at the clock across his office on his table, next to the picture of him and his wife two years ago on their trip to the Rockies. It read 11:30.

He sighed as Cloud went on about how "If you aren't sure, don't do it, man!" He cleared his throught and cut him off. "Listen, Cloud, I made a promise and I'll keep it." A pause. "No, no, it's fine. My wife will be fine with it, I've already mentioned it to her. Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, 10:00 am sharp." He replaced the phone back onto the ringer, listening to the hollow sound it made through his empty, darkened office.

With a groan, he got up and put his cell phone into his briefcase, along with his pager, calculator, laptop, and a pile of papers two inches thick. He carefully locked the door to his office, stepping out into the rest of the bridal shop.

As a young businessman, people had always made fun of him for owning and running a bridal shop, complete with wedding and bridesmaid's dresses. But they didn't understand the complexity of it. Vincent Valentine had grown up with a single mother, his father having died in a car accident, drunk off his ass. She raised him in the back of the bridal shop, in the room that was now his office. They had promised each other that they would keep the shop forever, because it was everything to them.

That was before she ended up raped and murdered in the back alley behind the shop one night when he was out with friends at the age of sixteen.

But Vincent was a strong, stoic man that hardly ever let out his feelings. He had continued running the shop even after her death, and though he was offered many other jobs in modeling and acting, he couldn't bear to leave the place, not after what he had promised his mother.

Only one person was still in the shop as he was leaving, a little salesgirl named Gunn. She was standing on a stool, her long, firey red hair falling to her lower back. She was hanging up the more pricey dresses, arranging them on the walls so that they were displayed just so.

"You should really head home, you know." Vincent said as he was walking to the door.

Gunn turned around sharply, startled, almost falling off the stool. She smiled when she realized it was him. "I'll head home in a few. I've just got a few more dresses."

Vincent nodded and left her to her work, out into the dark streets of Buffalo, New York. He went around the back to his car, a Passat, and started the engine. It was a cold, November night, and the air was bitter. He turned the heat on high and waited for it to heat up the car.

He took the long way home, knowing that Tifa would never notice if he came home a little later than he'd promised. In fact, lately Tifa wasn't noticing much of anything lately.

They were fighting more and more. They loved each other, but it wasn't always fights where they would kiss and make up. Actually, most of them were about the opposite, consisting of screaming and yelling until one eventually left the house and didn't return until the next morning.

Part of Vincent thought there was cheating involved, because he didn't know where else Tifa would run to in the middle of the night. Sometimes when they were making love he'd catch the scent of foreign cologne in her hair, but he never mentioned it. Once, he answered the phone and a man asked for her, but when Vincent asked who it was, the person had hung up.

The back roads were dark and deserted, the fields and the road the only things in sight. His headlights were the only light aside from the stars. Vincent turned on the radio and found a station playing U2, a band he had always liked. He turned it up and, feeling better, rolled down his window, letting his hand flow through the air.

And suddenly, in the middle of the road, there was a little white bird.

It was the strangest thing he had ever seen, something so simple and pure in the middle of the blackest night. It blinked at him with beady black eyes. He was about twenty feet from it. Something in him knew he could not hit it, but it wasn't flying away. He honked his horn, but the bird did nothing. Suddenly he realized that it's wing was bent at an impossible angle, and it could not fly.

Hardly aware now of what he was doing, he pulled off to the side of the road, even though he knew no one would be taking that road anytime soon that night. He got out of his car and walked into the center of the road. Squinting in the darkness for the tiny bird, he found he could hardly see anything, so he went to his car and turned on the headlights. But the road was empty.

Vincent searched the side of the road in case it had limped off, but the bird was nowhere to be found. It was as if it had never been there at all. "Okay," he muttered tiredly, "Now I'm hallucinating. Great."

He looked up into the heavens, the stars twinkling back at him, mocking. "Is this some sort of sign?" he said softly, feeling the wind whip against his back.

Deciding he was either too tired or going insane, he walked back to his car and drove the rest of the way home, 10 miles per hour above the speed limit.

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Tifa was on the couch when he got home, sleeping there with the Cosby show silently flashing on the big screen in front of her. She had a Cosmo magazine across her stomach, and she was wearing her red silk nightgown, which used to symbolize good news for him. He wondered how long she'd been waiting for him.

She looked so innocent, so beautiful when she slept that he wondered what had happened between them, why had everything been so hard lately. They used to be so close. They would go on trips and travel the world. She knew the secrets inside of him that no one else could ever know. She had taken a cold, silent man and opened him up, fitting herself perfectly inside.

He knelt over her on the couch, letting his long, raven hair tickle her chest. He kissed her on the lips and shook her gently. "Tifa. Tifa, honey, I'm home now."

Tifa's dark eyes fluttered open, and for a minute she smiled, before it faded into a very angry look, a look that meant another fight. She pushed him away and flicked off the TV, leaving them in darkness. "I'm going to bed," She grumbled, ascending up the stairs.

He followed her, frustrated, and when she nearly slammed the bedroom door in his face, he knew that was it. "What is your problem?" He asked bewildered.

She looked back at him with an equally fierce glare before looking away, pulling down her nightgown. "You promised you'd be home by nine."

Vincent sighed, leaning against the doorway. "I got held up at work. Some fucking lady couldn't make up her mind about whether she wanted sky blue or perrywinkle for her bridesmaids."

Tifa took a step closer to him. "And Gunn and Richard couldn't have handled it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vincent shrugged a shoulder. "Richard didn't come in today."

Tifa nodded. "And Gunn?"

Vincent put his hand on her cheek, wishing that things could be okay, for just one night. "Please, lets just forget it, okay? I love you, I'm sorry."

She slapped his hand away and went to the bed, gathering up a small blanket and a pillow. "No, Vincent. I can't forget it. You promise me the same fucking thing every night and you never follow through! How are we supposed to be together if you never make any attempt!" Her voice was rising to the shriek that always meant things were worse.

"Tifa!" he pleaded, following her as she stomped down the stairs.

She stopped and turned around, and he almost knocked into her. He could smell the scent of the perfume that she only wore for special occasions. His heart felt as heavy as a stone. "What?" She asked, her voice suddenly softer.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I don't want you to say anything. I want you to be a husband to me. You are twenty-five years old, we have been married seven years now, and still I sometimes wonder if I love you."

Her words were like hot knives. Suddenly he doubted everything he had devoted his life to. The vows that were made on the wedding…were they nothing now?

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, his voice so soft he could hardly hear the words as they left his mouth.

Tifa looked up at him, her eyes watery with tears, following the ones that were already spilling down her cheeks. "Nothing, Vincent. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his chest.

"I'm so sorry." He murmered, leading her, in his arms, back to their bedroom.

Tifa sniffled. "No, no, honey, it's okay. Things will get better, I promise."

She went to bed and he stripped off his clothes and settled in beside her, letting her head rest on his chest. She stroked over his stomach, something she used to do when they were teenagers, but she hadn't done in years.

"Do you love me?" he asked, knowing she was drifting off to sleep. There was no answer.

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The next day at work, he found two police officers waiting for him, both holding pads of paper and looking extremely somber.

He ran a hand through his hair and approached them. "Is there something I can help you officers with?" He asked, and they turned their heads towards him.

"Are you Vincent Valentine?" asked one, stepping towards him.

"I am." He replied, looking at them curiously.

"Where were you last night from about six o'clock pm until three o'clock am?" the other asked, looking at him with quizzical eyes.

"I was at work until 11:30, then I went home…What is this all about?" He asked, suddenly worried.

The second one suddenly turned very serious. "At approximately 12:30 last night, Gunn Sanchez was murdered. We found her naked and her throat slit about 30 miles east. Turns out the last place she was seen was here, so we figured you might know something about it…?"

Vincent grimaced and rubbed his brow. "Oh, God. I can't believe this." He muttered, and then added, "Listen, I had a really bad night last night. I worked late because some lady couldn't make up her mind, and then I went home and had an argument with my wife. Things are really falling apart for me right now, and I'm sorry, but the last time I saw Gunn, she was hanging up dresses on display at about 11:30, and she said she'd be leaving in a few minutes."

The police officers jotted everything down on their pieces of paper and then gavev him a card reading, "Officer Dunhoe, call 555-4442 if you have any more information."

The first officer pointed to the card and said, "You get anything else, any hints even, you just call me up. I have to find who killed this little girl." And with that, they left.

Inside the shop, things were hectic. The customers were all whispering frantically, knocking into displays of dresses, knocking them sideways. Richard alone was at the register, ringing up one woman, and signalling to another that he'd help her find her size in one moment.

Vincent rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on here?" he asked angrily.

Richard looked over to him, sweat beading down his forehead. "Gunn was killed, man! And now I've been working this place by myself since 8, not knowing what the hell I'm doing, man! I just work the register, I don't know how the fuck to get back into storage or where the ladders are to get the shoes! Where the hell have you been?"

A woman who had just witnessed the sudden outburst looked at Richard strangely, took her dress, and left.

Vincent sighed. "I told you I wouldn't be in until 10." Ignoring Richard's curses of protest, he walked back into his office, finding a relaxed looking Cloud Strife lounging in his chair.

Vincent threw his breifcase across the room in frustration. "I forgot all about you!" he nearly yelled, causing Cloud to jump up.

He held out his hands, and said, "Whoa man, it's okay, no reason to freak out…"

Vincent glared at him. "Yes, I do have reason to freak out! My wife and I can't stop fighting, my business is not making me or her happy, she hardly speaks to me anymore, my salesgirl got killed last night, and now I have to deal with some stupid idiot like you that's going to live with me in exchange for work! I've got _plenty_ of reason to freak out!"

It had been years since Vincent had screamed at anyone besides his wife. Hardly anyone but her saw him show emotion at all, and sudddenly he found himself screaming at his old college friend.

"Please," Vincent said, calming himself down, "Go out there and help some of those women. I'll have to go out and get a new salesgirl from somewhere." Cloud edged towards the door, still looking a little frightened. "I'm sorry, Cloud, I've just had a really, _really_ bad night." Cloud nodded and went back into the store.

Vincent stepped out onto the busy street, people pushing past him madly on their way to wherever it was they were going. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "PLEASE! I'M LOOKING FOR A NEW SALESPERSON FOR MY STORE! FIVE-FIFTY AN HOUR!"

Everyone ignored him, simply cast him weird glances, then continued walking. Some people cursed at him or told him to shut up. He stood out in the cold, having forgotten his jacket that morning, screaming, for at least ten minutes, before a small girl with a short crop of black hair came up to him, a lopsided smile on her face.

"Gawd, I'll be your damn salesperson if it'll shut you up." She said, grinning. Vincent sighed. "Will you really?" he asked.

She wore a small purple turtleneck that barely covered her stomach and a small black skirt. Not exactly what he had been anticipating, but she would do.

She nodded. "Yeah, I said I'd do it, didn't I?" She stuck out her hand. "The name's Yuffie Kisaragi."

He shook her hand. "Vincent Valentine, I own Valentine Boutique. My salesgirl got killed last night and we're having a very busy day. All you have to do is help the customers find their sizes, and you've got the job."

Yuffie followed him to the shop, jumping right in to help three annoyed looking women who were trying to get into the dressing rooms. Vincent let out a sigh of relief and turned to Cloud, who was now working the register, while Richard was in the back, fastening shoes onto a particularly large woman.

"Listen, Cloud, I'm sorry about earlier." He said, leaning against the counter. Cloud grinned at him and replied, "No problem. We all have our bad days. Did you find a new salesgirl?"

Vincent gestured to Yuffie, who was easily helping a woman find a dress as she elaborately explained it to her. "Yeah, her name's Yuffie. If she keeps up that kind of work, I'll probably hire her for good."

Cloud watched, wide-eyed, as Yuffie bent down to check a size tag. "You know, I think you should too."

Vincent laughed and elbowed him. "Perv." He muttered. "She can't be older than sixteen." Cloud cocked his eyebrow. "And who says that matters?"

He smiled at the awed Cloud, who tilted his head to the side as she stood back up. "Listen, Cloud, if its okay, I'm going to go home to my wife and see if I can make yesterday up to her. You just come home whenever you feel like closing up."

Cloud nodded. "Thanks, man, for letting me stay with you. It's just that I've been so low on money lately and…" Vincent held up his hand. "No, its fine. It's good to get to see you again anyways." Cloud smiled at his old friend as he left.

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Vincent came home and found the door unlocked. "Weird…" he muttered, knowing that Tifa had always been paranoid and liked to keep the door locked during the day, since she worked with E-Bay and was always home.

The living room was empty, the computer, where she was usually found, was turned off and she was not sitting in front of it. He frowned and continued up the stairs, his foot catching on a pair of black, lacy panties, about halfway up.

He smiled to himself and continued to the bedroom, finding her bra laying abandoned in front of the door. She always did sweet little things like that when he was least expecting it. He threw open the bedroom door.

On top of the bed, was Tifa, comepletely naked, with a man writhing on top of her, naked as well. "God!" He gasped, too stunned to turn away, too disgusted to look at them.

Tifa screamed and crawled out from under the man, a man Vincent didn't recognize, who had short, blond hair and was built very stocky. The man grabbed the quilt, _Vincent's_ quilt, and covered himself up, looking shocked.

"What the _FUCK_ is this?" He asked Tifa, feeling his face heat up. It took all the strength in his body not to walk over there and beat the shit out of her.

Tifa's mouth opened, but no words followed for several seconds, and she stood there, naked, glancing from her husband to her other lover, who was now standing against the opposite wall as Vincent, looking extremely nervous.

"ANSWER ME, TIFA!" Vincent yelled, taking a step closer to his shaking wife. She backed up against the wall. "Vincent, I'm sorry, I was just so angry at you…"

Vincent groaned. "EVERYTHING WAS FINE LAST NIGHT! YOU SAID EVERYTHING WAS FINE!" Tifa looked away and said in a small voice, "I lied, Vince, things haven't been fine for a long time, I thought you knew that."

No matter what he tried, Vincent could not control his anger. "FUCK YES, I KNEW THINGS WEREN'T FINE! BUT I DAMN SURE DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE FUCKING SOMEBODY ELSE!" He stopped himself when he realized that a part of him had known all along.

He cleared his throat, leaving Tifa looking stunned and her lover glancing aroung awkwardly. He pointed to the door. "Get out of my house." He said suddenly, breaking the unbearable silence.

"Vincent, come on, lets be rational, here." She pleaded, taking a step toward him.

He backed away. "Get the _fuck_ out of my house, Tifa. Now. I mean it."

Tifa's face contorted as she began to cry. "FINE!" She screamed, grabbing her clothes and pulling them over her head. "Come on, Cid, let's get out of here." She pulled the man by his hand, pushing his clothes against his chest.

Vincent slammed the door behind them and locked it, looking down the bed that his wife had cheated with him on only minutes before. He moaned in frustration and locked himself in the bathroom and collapsed against the back of the door, sliding down into the sitting position. He listened to the sounds of Tifa's Jeep as she drove away, out of his life.

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Teehee. Please read and review!

-Mel


	2. Character Traits

A/N: Chapter two! This ends in a weird spot, but please give some feedback by reviewing! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

SECRET GARDEN

CHAPTER TWO

There was a tapping on the bathroom door. Vincent jolted awake, his face feeling stiff and crusty with dried tears. "Hey, man, what's happened here?" He heard the voice of Cloud Strife on the other side of the door.

He cleared his throat. "I don't even know anymore…" He replied, his voice still sounding much worse than normal.

"How about you open the door then, and we can figure it out?"

Vincent rubbed his tired eyes and stood up, checking his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he had been dead for a year. His hair was wild and matted, his eyes had dark circles underneath them. He pulled his hair back and opened the door.

Cloud stepped back a little in shock at the sight of his old friend, who was usually so calm and collected, looking like an absolute wreck. "God!" He muttered. "What happened, Vince?"

Vincent sighed. "I came home and found Tifa fucking some other guy."

"God! Are you serious?" Cloud asked, bewildered, taking Vincent by the arm and leading him downstairs. Vincent nodded.

"You look bad, Vince. Here, let me fix something to eat. It's 9:00, you know! How long have you been in there?" Vincent groaned and collapsed on the couch, while Cloud went into the kitchen. "Since this morning." He replied.

Cloud laughed. Vincent heard the clang of pots and pans as he made macaroni. "That Yuffie girl sure is cute, and a damn good worker. She sold more shit than you probably have ever since you started running the place!"

Vincent turned on the TV and turned it to AMC, which was playing The Patriot, and watched men getting brutally killed without it slightly phasing him. It was as if he was in a daze. "Yeah, I was thinking about hiring her for good."

Cloud came back in with two bowls, and Vincent noticed that it was Instant Mac. Vincent ate it hungrily without caring about how bad of a job Cloud had done at mixing in the cheese powder.

Cloud patted Vincent on the leg and said, "You know what we should do, man? We should go out and get some real food and some booze. We've got a lot to catch up on, you know."

Vincent nodded. "Sounds just like what I need." Even thought it wasn't. His heart ached when he put on his coat and smelled her perfume.

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They ate at a popular Mexican restraunt called Acambaro, where they caught up on each other's lives. Since they had graduated high school, Cloud had gone off in the military, met a girl named Aerith, got engaged to her, called it off, went bankrupt, lost his brother in the war, and found himself with nowhere else to go but to Vincent.

Vincent told Cloud about his rocky marriage to Tifa, the way he didn't feel complete with her, about how difficult it was to run the business and love her at the same time. Cloud nodded his head understandingly, but Vincent knew he really had absolutely no idea where he was coming from.

Cloud suggested they go to a bar, but Vincent only wanted to go home and sleep. The house was dark and quiet when they got home, something it rarely was before. Tifa loved to watch TV at night and leave it blaring until morning, but now the house was pitch black. It was strange not to hear her voice taunting him to come upstairs from some hidden corner, or not to hear her walking on the floors above.

"I'm going to bed." He told Cloud. He started up the stairs, but then realized that he couldn't bear to sleep in that bed. He turned back to Cloud. "Well, I'll just take the couch. You can make your room in the guest bed."

Cloud nodded in silent agreement and went to his room. Vincent put a clean blanket across the couch and lay there, and he couldn't help but smell the faint scent of his own cologne and her lotion on the fabric. He tried not to, but the tears flooded his eyes anyway.

She was all he knew. He'd never been without her. And yet he suddenly found himself alone, in the dark, without her.

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He came into work the next morning completely unlike himself. He was known in the shop as a good businessman, always arriving right on time in a suit and tie. But that morning he was running late by 15 minutes, dressed in dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt, looking stressed beyond all belief. Cloud came in behind him, looking concerned.

Richard, who was showing Yuffie how to arrange the dresses, let out a cackle at the unusual sight of his boss. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked, and Yuffie grinned.

Vincent grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker near the register and grumbled, "You better shut the fuck up or you'll be looking for another job."

He slammed the door to his office right in Cloud's face, who reopened it and followed him in. Vincent plopped into the chair, sending everything on his desk shaking violently.

"Just because Tifa left you doesn't mean you have to take it out on the rest of the world." Cloud muttered, picking up picture frames that had fallen off the desk and replacing them. They were both pictures of Tifa, grinning at Vincent, taunting him. He threw them across the room.

"You have no idea what this would feel like." Vincent grumbled, putting his head down on his desk.

Cloud sighed. "I'll get out there and work while you have your pity party." Vincent heard him stand up.

"Send Yuffie in here, while you're at it." He ordered, picking his head back up and trying to look like a presentable boss.

Yuffie came in after several minutes, a smile on her youthful face. Vincent forced a smile back, but it almost felt painful to his face.

"Have a seat." He said, and she giggled when she saw that the only two chairs were covered in his junk, but she took a seat on one anyway.

"How would you like to work for me full time?" Vincent asked her, and she grinned up at him. "I'd love it! I'm in need of a job anyway. My brother…" She frowned. "Well, he's got cancer and he's been given a year to live, but that was three years ago." Her smile returned. "But the medical bills are pretty high, so I'd love to work for you."

Vincent smiled back. "Good, good. So how old are you? Out of curiosity."

Yuffie grinned. "Eighteen, immature, and proud!" She exclaimed, bouncing in her chair. She's just a ball of fire, he thought to himself.

Vincent laughed. "I thought you'd be somewhere around in there." She winked at him. "Yes, sir! Well, I'd better be going, looks like we've got us somemore customers!" The bell on the front door rang, announcing that she was correct. "Nice to meet you formally, Mr. Valentine!"

She bounded up and leapt for the door. His heart sank, knowing that he didn't have anyone to hide behind, now that he was alone with himself and his thoughts. It wasn't long before his phone rang, and he jumped in surprise.

It was Tifa. "I'm coming to the house to get my stuff." She said bluntly, sounding hollow, like she always did when they were fighting.

Vincent sighed. "Alright. Leave your key on the porch." He replied, sounding equally as hollow.

"Vincent, I don't want to do this. Please say you'll take me back."

Vincent closed his eyes. If he took her back, things would eventually get bad between them again and she would end up screwing someone else again. He loved her, but the truth remained. And he could not take her back.

"Tifa, no. I can't. No." He said firmly. He heard her sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

"Vincent. I love you, I'm sorry for what I did. Don't leave me."

Vincent couldn't take her pleading, knowing that if she kept it up that he would eventually say yes to her. "No, Tifa. You made this decision. Not me, you did. Just get your shit out of my house and get out of my life."

Tifa began to cry, and Vincent held his ear away from the phone. "Does this mean you want a divorce?" Tifa whimpered.

"Yes, Tifa. Mail me the papers." And with his last bit of strength, he hung up the phone.

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As he was closing up the shop, he noticed that Yuffie was the only person that hadn't gone home. Even Cloud had gone home for the day around 6:30, and it was now well past 9. He found her on the floor, boxing shoes.

"Yuffie, it's late. You should go home. I'm closing up." He told her, pulling on his jacket and getting out his keys.

She smiled at him and jumped up, shoving the shoeboxes back into their places. "Alright, I am kinda tired."

He smiled back at her, before he realized that he couldn't remember seeing her in a car. "How are you getting home?"

Yuffie shrugged. "I'll walk. That's what I usually do."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. He couldn't let the poor girl walk, not after what had happened to his last salesgirl. "How about I give you a ride?"

Yuffie shook her head. "It's okay, I walk home all the time." Vincent came closer to her, patted her shoulder.

"No, I insist. After I let my last salesgirl go home alone, she ended up dead." He smiled at her. "Please, let me take you home."

Yuffie shrugged. "I guess that'll be okay, but you got yourself into it!" She smiled, and he walked her out to his car.

She gave him directions to her home, humming along with whatever song was playing on the radio, letting the cold wind whip through her short hair. Vincent smiled at her as she sat there, so young and cute and oblivious to the rest of the world. He felt a little better, his long hair flying around him in the car, as she turned up the music and the voice of Tom Petty filled the air.

"_She's a good girl, loves her mama, loves Jesus, and America too_." Yuffie sang, a little off tune. She patted his leg. "Come on, you old fart! Sing with me!" She yelled over the music.

Vincent shook his head and shifted gears. "I don't think so!" He yelled back.

Yuffie frowned. "You just don't want me to hear your voice!"

Vincent laughed. "Maybe I just don't like singing!"

Yuffie mimicked a chicken. "CHIIIIICKEN!" She yelled.

Vincent hadn't sung in years. He couldn't sing a note on tune, and didn't care to try. But there was something about that song and the air around them and how her youth was inspiring him, that he opened his mouth, and they belted together, "_Now I'm free! Free falling_!"

Yuffie giggled frantically before they continued, "_And all the vampires, walking through the valley move west down Ventura Boulevard. All the bad boys are standing in the shadows, all the good girls go home with broken hearts_."

Yuffie continued wailing along, but Vincent just laughed and pulled up in the girl's driveway. It was a broken looking home, with shutters barely hanging on and a porch piled up with boxed junk. Two figures sat on the porch; they looked as if they were playing checkers.

Vincent switched off the radio. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." He told her, unlocking her door. Yuffie grinned at him and unbuckled her seatbelt. "I don't think you're getting off that easily." She replied.

She bounded up to the porch, signaling for him not to leave just yet. She said something to the figures on the porch and ran back to the car, opening his door. He found himself wondering what he had gotten himself into.

"Come on! My mom and Hanna want to meet you!" She exclaimed, taking him by the forearm. He groaned and followed her up the steps to the broken looking house. "I told you you got yourself into it!" she whispered, grinning at him.

A woman with long, black hair, streaks of gray running through it in a plaid shirt and shorts was smiling at him, and beside her, on the other end of the checker board, was a boy with strange patches of black fuzz for his hair. He looked very sickly. Vincent took this to be Yuffie's brother, Hanna.

"Mom, Hanna, this is my new boss, Mr. Valentine." Yuffie said, nodding as Vincent extended his hand. Yuffie's mother shook his hand, but Hanna only gave him an unsure look until he took it away.

"Please, call me Vincent." He told them, and Yuffie's mother nodded. "I'm Stella. It's good to know that there are still kind people like you in this world, Vincent. Thank you so much for hiring Yuffie in our time of need right now."

Yuffie cleared her throat. "_Mom_-"

Stella waved her daughter off. "No, Yuffie, if he's your boss, he needs to know." She turned to Vincent. "Both of my children have been diagnosed with leukemia. Things are just really hard for us right now. So thank you for hiring her. She's delicate, so please be sure to watch out for her."

Vincent's throat suddenly felt very dry. He had thought that she was just a carefree teenager, when really she was probably just making the best of her time to be alive.

"Oh. Yuffie didn't tell me that." He said, glancing at Yuffie, who was staring at her mother, looking embarrassed. "I'll be sure to keep a close eye on her." He assured Stella, who nodded.

"Well I should be getting home." Vincent said, stepping back off the porch.

"Thank you for taking me home!" Yuffie exclaimed, but he could tell that her voice was somehow different. He waved at the young girl, and through her twinkling, happy eyes he could see the sickness and insecurity. And he realized that she had not helped him with his happiness at all.

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The next day, Yuffie seemed the same as usual, the perky salesgirl that could sell anything to anybody if she just bat her lashes.

In fact, she was charming a young soon-to-be husband so much that he was actually hitting on her, although she hadn't meant to attract his attention in that way.

"So uh, do you want me to get you a drink somewhere? My fiancé's at work, so I could take you…" Yuffie gave Vincent a panicked look as the young man reached out to touch her cheek.

"Yuffie!" Vincent exclaimed, waving her over as he headed to his office. She waved at the man and skipped off to follow Vincent, who took her into the office and shut the door. She immediately burst into laughter.

He laughed himself and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Nice, Yuffie, charming the engaged customers." She laughed at him, bouncing over to where he was to pour her own mug of coffee. She had taken the #1 Grandma mug, the joke mug that Tifa always used to use, and it had drove Vincent crazy that she refused to use any other one.

"I didn't mean to! The guy just started getting all suggestive, and I didn't know what to do!" She giggled at herself and turned to him. "Well, I better get back out there and deal with it."

Vincent winked at her. "If you need me to scare him off, just look scared and it's done, okay, kid?"

Yuffie winked back, nodded, and returned to her shift. Cloud came in after her, making an obvious glance down her v-neck shirt. "Flirting with the new salesgirl, I see? You're quick at it, Vince." Cloud threw a smirk at him and plopped down in the chair in front of his desk, slinging his leg over the armrest.

Vincent smirked back. "I'm not flirting with her. _You _don't even have room to talk."

Cloud laughed. "There's a difference between flirting and admiring her young bosoms."

Vincent threw a paper at him. "Good God, you are a perv!" Cloud grinned. "You are too, man, I've seen you checking her out!"

Vincent's jaw dropped. "Well maybe I am, but at least I'm more polite about it, instead of just checking out her breasts, all wide-eyed!"

Cloud's laughter stopped short as Yuffie walked in with a pile of shoes, blushing frantically. Vincent could feel his own face heat up, but he beckoned her over. She bent over his desk, pointing to the box, and Vincent found it incredibly hard to focus. "You didn't put a price on these." She said, stifling embarrassed laughter.

Vincent laughed nervously. He reached across the desk, brushing her hand in the process, causing her to turn a shade of purple, and wrote 50$ in pen on the box. He smiled up at her, and she quickly walked out of the room, nearly tripping on the rug.

Cloud smirked at him. "Awkward…" Vincent reached across the desk and smacked him. "Go back to work or you're fired!" he ordered in a faux scary voice.

Cloud laughed and let the room. Vincent put his face in his hands and stifled his embarrassed scream.

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Vincent came home that night to an empty house. All of Tifa's things were gone, and she had left her key on the kitchen counter in plain sight so that he could find it without trouble. There was also a note beside it that read:

"If this is the way you want it, I'll mail you the papers in a couple of weeks. Don't forget that if you ever want to forgive me, I'd be happy to go back to you.

Love,

Tifa"

As if he would ever take her back for what she'd done. Although, he supposed he had indeed done his part at pushing her away, and he thought that deep down perhaps he deserved what he'd gotten.

But what he was most afraid of was being alone. Vincent was a person that could never bear being alone with himself. His mind was a dark thing that he sometimes felt like he didn't understand. Tifa had been the only girl to really show interest in him through highschool, the only one that he didn't scare or push away. Without her, what was he? Alone forever?

He threw away the note and turned off the ringer on his phone. Somehow he knew she would call, but he didn't think he could bear the answer. He wasn't strong enough without her; she could make him say yes to anything.

Cloud had gone out drinking, and by now Vincent wished he had gone. He was never a fan of alcohol, being a slightly high-class man, in fact, the only alcohol he would ever drink was wine. But suddenly he was in the mood to do whatever it took to get over her, and drinking seemed the best solution. He threw on his coat and shoes and drove to Smokey's Bar and Grill.

He hadn't been to the bar itself in years, although he and Tifa would eat at the restaurant frequently. The bartender knew him by name, saw how upset he was, and gave him a discount on beer.

Vincent personally couldn't stand the taste of beer, but drank it anyway. He wanted to feel numb, not have to think of anyone or anything. He didn't drink until he was drunk; it was something he had learned not to do out of respect for himself and everyone else for that matter. He drank until he had a slight buzz, and by that time, an attractive brunette woman had come over to sit beside him.

"You look down." Her voice was cool in the musky, dirty bar, around all the drunken men and the football playing loudly on the television.

Vincent looked up at her, letting his hair fall in his face and not caring. Tifa had hated that. "I guess I am."

The woman scooted her chair closer, giving him a better look at her. She had amazingly long, wavy brown hair, and a baby face. She looked younger than she probably was. He couldn't help but notice how well she filled out her pink dress.

"Well, maybe tonight will make it better." She winked at him and blushed. For as cute as she was, she sure wasn't good at hitting on men.

He smiled back at the girl and asked, "Just how old are you, now? You shouldn't be in a nasty bar like this."

She smirked at him and replied. "I'm twenty one, thank you. But on the contrary, a man such as yourself shouldn't be in a nasty bar like this either."

Vincent replied, "A man such as myself? What are you getting at?"

The girl smiled. "I mean, you're a beautiful man, you don't look like much of a drinker, and you look miserable. So how about we get out of here? We could go to a club?"

Vincent smiled to himself. His first night out and he already had a sweet younger girl wanting to go places with him. But it just wasn't his speed. He refused to get over her (or even try) that quickly. "No thanks. I'll be heading home soon anyway."

The girl nodded her head, but didn't look let down. "How about I go with you, then?"

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Vincent woke up the next morning with a naked girl flopped over him and a pounding headache. He remembered vaguely that her name was Aeris and she had just broken up with her boyfriend and was in a similar situation of Vincent himself.

He had gotten more drunk than he had intended the night before, and went overboard with the girl that now lay halfway on top of him. Thank God everything after they went home was a blur, who knew what kind of trash he said. Hopefully she didn't remember either.

He wormed his way out from under her, put on some boxers, and walked downstairs to see a Cloud at the table, eating a muffin, with a smirk on his face. He knew what was coming.

"Who was that lovely young lady you banged last night?" he asked, crumbs falling from his mouth, something Tifa would have never put up with.

Vincent went to the refrigerator and took a swig of orange juice. He pointed an accusing finger at Cloud. "You shut up. I got drunk."

Cloud grinned, his mouth full of chewed muffin. "How uncharacteristic of you."

"Yeah, well, everything lately has been uncharacteristic of me."

But the truth was Vincent feared that this was how he really acted without Tifa there. Did he use women, have carefree one-night-stands? Was that who he was when he was alone? He didn't know. The thing Vincent Valentine feared most was himself. He had always avoided nights alone, fearing that his very thoughts would overpower him. He relied on others so that he would not have to face this world in his most vulnerable form, when he was alone.

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Please read and review!

-Mel


	3. On Your Side

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! Sorry it took so long for an update, but I'm also working on two original fics, a co-written fic with Annjirika (the first chapter should be up later this winter, Ann's really busy with NaNoWriMo) and Children of the Night. Thanks for being so patient.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

SECRET GARDEN

_She'll let you in her house  
If you come knockin' late at night  
She'll let you in her mind  
If the words you say are right_

PART ONE

CHAPTER THREE: ON YOUR SIDE

Cloud laughed, taking a long drink from his glass of milk. "So what's her name?"   
Vincent sat down beside him at the bar, with his carton of orange juice. "Her name is—" He cut off, remembering her name and connecting it with the name Cloud had said was his ex-girlfriend. But it was worse than that, even—his ex-_fiance._

Vincent cleared his throat. He was drunk when it happened, she probably was too…he'd understand, wouldn't he? Little accidents like that happen all the time…

"Her name is Aerith. I didn't notice until just now, I swear it, dude." Vincent finished. Cloud's face slightly lost color, but the looked down to his muffin and picked at it as if it were the only thing on his mind.

"Yeah, man, I totally understand…you were both drunk and all…" he trailed off, and looked up and gave Vincent a weak smile. Vincent's heart felt heavy in his chest. How could he do that to his friend, no matter what the circumstances?

Aerith walked into the kitchen, all smiles and skin glowing, wearing Vincent's t-shirt and boxers. A blush rose to Vincent's cheeks. He didn't think Tifa had ever done that, and to see another woman do it was just surreal. He hoped Cloud thought that maybe they were hers.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the blonde man sitting next to Vincent. "_Cloud?_" she asked, stunned.

Cloud studied her appearance, her hair messy from the night before, eyeliner smudged on her cheek. "Yeah, I'm staying with Vincent for a while."

There was an unspoken thing lingering in the air, a mixture of uncomfort and something else, maybe a problem that was never solved when the split apart.

She went over to sit beside Vincent. "Well, it's nice to see you, Cloud."

He nodded, giving Vincent a slightly pissed off look. "You too. I see you've changed a bit."

She glared at him, but smiled and nodded, as though she thought the change was for the better, and he thought it for the worse.

Aerith tore her eyes from Cloud and smiled at Vincent. "I've gotta go to work, but I left my number on your nightstand. Promise to call?" There was playfulness in her voice that was irresistibly cute.

"Promise." He replied, grinning. Aerith leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, and Vincent couldn't help but feel that she was just making a show of it because she wanted to piss off Cloud.

Within a few minutes, she was dressed and out the door.

"Are you going to call her?" Cloud asked off-handedly, not looking at Vincent. Vincent shook his head.

"Probably not. I didn't even know who the hell she was until this morning."

Cloud nodded. "Well, I'm going to work." He said, his tone slightly uncomfortable.

Vincent nodded back. "Alright, I'll be in in an hour." Cloud didn't say goodbye as he walked through the door. Vincent knew that he had made a huge mistake.

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At work, things were hectic. It was a busy day, a weekday, and Vincent was extremely unpleased after the events of that morning, to see that he had some visitors in his office.

"Who is it?" he snapped in a low voice to Richard, who was working the register.

Richard gave him a knowing look. "Gunn's parents."

Vincent sighed and headed into the office, where a very stuck up looking man and woman were fingering things on his filecabinet, examining his pictures.

"Hello." He said stiffly, announcing his presence. "Can I help you?"

The woman looked to him as if she had never seen something as despicable as him. "We're Gunn's _parents._" The man put his hand tightly around her forearm. He was a good-looking fellow, with black hair just beginning to gray. He looked like the passive partner in the relationship.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." Vincent said, feeling stupid for using that line. He hadn't spent much time worrying about what could have been done about Gunn, what with his life falling to hell on top of it all, but he had wondered if there was anything he could have done that could have stopped her death. Offer a ride home, sent her home early…but he realized that dwelling on this would be distracting him from the truth, which was that he couldn't have done a damn thing to save the poor girl.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Vincent. He noticed that they were rimmed with deep black circles, although he couldn't be sure if that was on account of her daughter's death or if she just always looked like that.

"Somehow your lack of remorse leads me to believe that you are the cause of this." She snarled, her voice venomous and low.

The man groaned. "Sylvia, we've been over this. He couldn't have done it, he had an alibi."

She snapped her head in her husband's direction, a piece of her carefully done updo falling across her forehead in the process. "Look at him! He hasn't shown one FLICKER of remorse since we got in here! I knew she should never have worked for this bastard-"

Vincent held up his hand, although it did not silence Sylvia's rage. "With all due respect-" he interjected, but she continued screaming at her husband.

"He looks like he'd do that sort of thing, just look at him! Didn't even come to the funeral, didn't say a word about being sorry, wishing there was something he could do-"

A little louder, Vincent butted in. "With all due respect…"

"AND his alibi sounded a little shady to me, I wouldn't be surprised if he killed her on his way home, now wouldn't that fuck up his nice little alibi-"

"_PLEASE, STOP_!" Vincent roared.

Sylvia, her face beet red, and her husband gave Vincent their utmost attention.

Vincent cleared his throat. "If you would have given me a split second to explain myself, maybe I could make some sense to you." Sylvia opened her mouth, then shut it, which was good, because Vincent had about had it with her.

"The night Gunn was killed, I was running two hours late for a date with my wife on account of some particularly rude customers. I had just found out that my old friend from college was going to stay with me, which I wasn't really jumping for joy to do, and I saw your daughter on my way out. I would have given her a ride, but she said that she was about to leave for home. I went home, deprived of sleep because of this demanding business, and the next day I come to work finding out that my salesgirl has been murdered, I've got a very busy shop, and after I got off work I found my wife cheating on me."

Gunn's parents said nothing. Which was good for them, because Vincent was about to snap as it was.

"I haven't been as concerned as I should have been about your daughter because if I was then I probably would have gone literally insane. I have had a very bad week, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with your daughter's death, and if there is ANYTHING I could do to help you out, simply ask."

Sylvia nodded. "Very well then. I apologize for making such preposterous assumptions about you, Mr. Valentine."

She clutched her husband's arm. "I'll be sure not to bother you again."

Before Vincent could say a word as to his remorse for Gunn, or whether there was anything he could do to help, they had strolled out the door, and Vincent didn't have the heart or the guts to stop them.

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Once again that night, Yuffie had stayed later than everyone else, desperate to label prices on the new shipment of men's dress shoes.

Vincent rubbed his brow, leaning against the door to the storage room. "You should go home. Come on, I'm taking you."

Yuffie looked up at him, and he noticed the slight perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. She waved him off. "Nope, I'm finishing up. Go home, don't be stubborn."

Vincent, of course, couldn't let her walk home, on account of what happened to the _last_ salesgirl that tried going home alone, and _she'd_ had a car. "Too bad. Come on, I want to go home, and I can't let you walk, not after what happened to Gunn."

Yuffie grinned up at him. "Thanks. Just let me finish this, is that okay?"

She looked so harmless, helpless, painfully cute. To think that she had a disease that could kill her was almost too hard to think of. Vincent nodded, taking a seat on a couple of boxes a few feet from where she was labeling the shoes.

She tucked a piece of short black hair behind her ear. "I heard what you told Gunn's parents today."

Vincent nodded, but said nothing. He'd been trying to push that little encounter to the back of his mind. It had been a busy day; he'd had enough to worry about.

"That was very strong of you to do, you know. Most people would have taken her crap." Yuffie said. She looked over her shoulder, her tank top sleeve nearly sliding off of it, and gave him a polite grin.

Vincent tried to smile back. "Well, I needed to get all of that out anyway. You'd do it too, if you'd been through what I've been in these last couple of days." He told her, lacing his fingers together.

Yuffie nodded. "I didn't know about your wife." She said thoughtfully.

Vincent gave a short laugh. "I've been trying not to think about it, or talk about it for that matter."

"I can imagine." Yuffie stood up, brushed off her front, and smiled. "Welp, I'm all done here, I guess we can be heading out."

Vincent stood up, and they walked out to the car. Just like before, the first thing she had gone to was the radio. He kept the windows rolled up this time, but of course she unrolled hers, letting the wind whip around her hair.

She couldn't find a song that satisfied her, so she left it on the classical station and turned it down so that it was barely humming in the speakers. "Damn stations, playing crap on a week night!" She spat with a sarcastic smile.

Vincent put his leaned his head back against the headrest. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" After she quirked an eyebrow, he added, "Out of curiosity."

Yuffie shrugged one shoulder. "Nah. I dropped out of school when I first got sick, and when my doctor told me I was strong enough to go back, we needed the money, so I went to work instead." There was a small smile in the corner of her lips. "I don't have time for boys."

"Sure you do. You're young, you've got a lot ahead of you."

Yuffie leaned a bit forward. "So do you. Maybe you shouldn't get so hung up on your wife. There's a million girls that would die to be with you, you know."

He didn't know what she meant by that, but decided not to contemplate it too much. She was just being nice, giving him a compliment so that he wouldn't be so depressed. It was just generosity.

He shrugged. "Listen, Yuffie, I've been wanting to discuss your, uh…" How was he to put it? "…Condition."

Yuffie nodded, looking slightly annoyed. "And?"

"Just, if you ever need help paying for anything, I can increase your pay." He glanced at her, saw that she was nodding as if she wasn't really paying attention. "Or, you know, I could just give you some money."

Yuffie shook her head. "You don't need to do that. Don't worry about me, we're fine. Money is not an issue to us."

"Well, it can be an issue if you don't have enough. I'm just saying, if you ever need it, just come to me and I'll see what I can do." Vincent replied, switching off the radio.

Yuffie leaned forward the rest of the way and turned it back on, changing the station to something more upbeat, a station that wasn't on Vincent's presets. "Really, Mr. Valentine, money is not an issue. We like to try to be with each other while we can and worry about that rather than the money."

Vincent nodded. So innocent. All she wanted was to live while she could. For Vincent, money had always been an issue, even if he had plenty of it. He knew money was a powerful thing, too powerful. The root of all evil, his mother had told him. But he was always sure there was enough. He couldn't imagine living poorly like he had when he was younger.

"Please, call me Vincent." He told her, hoping that his offer hadn't offended her.

"Vincent, then." She said, turning her head to stare out the window, at the plains and fields and cities passing her by.

When they had arrived at her house, not a word had been exchanged between them for the last ten minutes of the ride. It was an uncomfortable silence, but Vincent was sort of used to that sort of thing.

Yuffie opened her door and was halfway out when she said, softly, uncharacteristically serious of her, "Thank you. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful."

Vincent smiled at her. He could see lines of tears on her face. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking down, at her legs. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey, it's alright. No need to cry."

Yuffie slumped back into the seat, her door still wide open. Vincent glanced up at her house, seeing that her mother and brother were not out playing checkers on the porch tonight. She sank her head into her hands, beginning to sob uncontrollably.

He didn't know what to do. He had never been very good at comforting, especially women. He placed his hand on her upper back.

"I just…" She sniffed."This is all too much. I can't do this. I don't want to be sick like this anymore." She looked up at him, her gray eyes big and wet. "I'm sorry for just going all waterworks on you. You don't need any more stress." She pulled away, getting out of the car.

Vincent put his hand on the door before she could slam it shut. "You…" he wondered how to word his offer. "You can always come to me if you need to talk, Yuffie."

She nodded, glancing at her house and rubbing her eyes. Finally her eyes landed on him. She bit her lip, holding back the tears. "You…You too."

He nodded, watching her run up to her house, the flat heels of her shoes clicking on the sidewalk.

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He came home to find Cloud on the couch, glaring at him. "I want to talk."

He had a beer clutched in his right hand, something that he had obviously bought, since Vincent didn't keep liquor in his house, except the occasional bottle of wine for special occasions. A few more bottles littered the coffee table in front of him, where his legs were propped up.

Vincent nodded, taking off his jacket and hanging it up on the coatrack, which was now almost completely empty without Tifa's collection of coats she would hardly ever wear.

He took a seat beside Cloud. Cloud looked over to him with watery, bloodshot eyes, and punched him square in the jaw.

Pain flared through Vincent's face. He reached up to clutch his mouth, finding that Cloud had split his lip. Warm blood ran thick through his fingers. Cloud's expression had not changed, but there were tears threatening to fall off his chin and into his lap.

"_That_ was for sleeping with my ex-fiancé." He said bitterly.

Vincent gave him an accusing look. "And how the _fuck_ was I supposed to know who she was, when I was apparently so wasted that I didn't even remember doing it?" He asked.

Cloud didn't say anything, but wiped his eyes. "Listen, I know you've had a hard time with work and me and your wife, but _honestly_, that was the shittiest thing you could have done to me. And then played it off like you didn't _care_ the next morning."

Vincent's hands clenched into fists, but he kept them safely in his lap. "I did care, Cloud, I just-"

Cloud smirked. "You just…what?"

Vincent didn't have anything left to say to him. "_I JUST DIDN'T CARE, OKAY? ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?_"

Vincent stood up, got his keys, and went to his car.

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He drove around for hours. He drove to the same bridge at least three times, contemplating driving straight off it. Seeing if anyone would care.

He drove way above the speed limit. He drove past other cars that honked at him angrily. He didn't care. Nothing in the world mattered anymore.

What is there left to live for? He wondered. And found that he had no answer.

But wasn't suicide just an easy way out? Just a pathetic epitome of self-pity? Was it really that bad? Shouldn't he take it like a man and go on living?

The words of his mother rang through his head. "This too, shall pass."

Soon he found himself mindlessly driving to the house of his salesgirl. It didn't make sense why, but perhaps it did. He needed someone to talk to. So did she. He would understand anything he had to say. He could learn to do the same for her.

He looked at the clock on his dashboard. 3:30 am. Late, sure. Would she still be awake? It was worth a try.

He didn't know whether to knock on the front door or find where her window was. The porchlight was on, but it looked like all the lights were out inside. Except for in the living room, where the television was casting shadows through the window.

He walked slowly up the front steps, held his breath, thought seriously about just leaving, and finally, softly knocked on the door.

No one answered. Vincent rubbed his eyes, tried to make his hair look halfway decent, and tried it again.

After several minutes, peeking through a small round window on the front door, he met with the tired looking eyes of Yuffie the salesgirl.

She opened the door slowly, her eyes squinting at the harsh fluorescent light of the porchlight. She was wearing a baggy pair of shorts and the same tank top she had worn that day, with her short bob of hair forced into pigtails. "Vincent? Is something wrong? It's three in the morning."

Vincent nodded. "Yeah, I know. Did I wake you up?"

Yuffie glanced behind her, then stepped out on the porch in front of him, closing the front door. "No, actually." She looked up at him. "Is something wrong?"

Vincent shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, there is. I know it's kind of crazy, I just needed someone to talk to, and I thought of what you said earlier."

Yuffie crossed her arms over her chest, looking out in the driveway at how terribly he had parked. "Well, I didn't mean you could come in the middle of the night, but…"

Vincent frowned, beginning to back off the steps. "I shouldn't have come. I'll leave…"

Yuffie stepped forward and grabbed his forearm. "No, no, stay, you're already here. I could use some company anyway."

She gestured towards the door. "Do you want to come in? It's a lot warmer in there. Where's your coat?"

Vincent shrugged. "What about your mom and brother?"

Yuffie smiled. "She's gone off visiting a friend and my brother sleeps like a rock. Please, come in. I don't want to stay out here anyway."

She led him into the living room, which was cram packed with boxes and miscellaneous junk just like the porch. There was a small, lopsided couch, which was covered in a few blankets and a pillow, and a large TV that set on the floor in front of it. Yuffie sat down on the couch, and Vincent took a seat beside her.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked, covering up her thin legs with a sheet.

Vincent shook his head. "I just needed to be with someone for a while and not have to fight with them. Cloud's mad at me now, because I got drunk and accidentally slept with his ex-fiancé…it just seems like everything I touch lately turns to shit."

Yuffie nodded. "Sounds like luck is definitely is _not _on your side lately."

Vincent smiled. "It's really not. I just want everything to be imperfect like it used to be, instead of completely and utterly fucked up." He looked at her. "Maybe I'm trying to hard to make things right. Maybe if I just be patient they'll right themselves."

Yuffie looked over to him. "Nothing's ever the end of the world. Make the most of what you have, Vincent. You've still got a good job, good looks, and another seventy years to live it up." She gave a weak grin. "You're still lucky."

He reached over and touched her leg, before drawing it back. "How bad is it? Your leukemia, I mean?"

Yuffie shrugged. "It's not so bad. I've learned to accept the fact that at any given time I can go to sleep and not wake up. That's why I live each day as best I can. I don't want pity, and I don't want to live every day like a funeral. I get sick a lot, I guess that puts a damper on things, but really, its not so bad."

Vincent smiled. "You've got a good spirit. And a good family to back you up, I can tell."

Yuffie looked away. "It still doesn't take away from the fact that I'm dying. Every day I'm scared. I won't have a normal life. I won't get married, I won't have children, I won't have a career, I won't see the world." Vincent saw a tear fall from her face. "What good is a good spirit and family if you can't have all that?"

Vincent didn't know what to tell her. Yuffie shook her head. "I should'nt dump all this crap on you, though. You didn't come here to listen to me complain."

Vincent smiled at her. "I should be going. It's late. I think you helped me realize what I need to do."

She grinned at him, watching him get up. "And what's that?"

Vincent smirked. "Stop being a pussy and live my life."

She followed him to the door. "Thank you for listening to me."

He turned to look at her, so fragile and young, with her hair up in those little pigtails like a three year old might do. Why did she have to be dying? What had she done to deserve that? She was so perfect, so selfless.

"No, thank you." He leaned in to hug her. She held on possibly longer than most would have, but he figured she might not have had a hug in while. When he pulled away, her eyes were glittering. "I'll see you tomorrow, Yuffie."

Then he went home and got a good night's sleep. He didn't even dream.

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To be honest, I didn't even remember that in the first chapter I had decided that Aerith would be Cloud's ex-fiance. I was going to go back and change the girl at the bar's name to something else, but I had already started getting reviews, so I just left it. It turned out to help the story anyways. XD

Anyway, please read and review!

-Mel


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